


Writing a Song

by silvertrails



Series: A Creature of Two Worlds [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: Daeron reflects about love and time. Maglor tries to help him.





	Writing a Song

**Writing a Song  
** By CC  
December, 2018 

The Valar, Maiar, Elves and Men belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit made and no harm intended. I’m just playing with them for a while.

This is written for the SWG Holiday Feast: Cheese Course.

It can make up part of your response - maybe someone is writing a love letter or reading a tear jerker romance? - or the whole fic can be as cheesy and corny as our cold wintery heart’s desire!

This story is a prequel to On the Road, but it can stand alone too.

* * *

Maglor glanced at Daeron, who was sitting under a tree, busy with parchment and quill while he lifted camp. It was inconsiderate to be writing while Maglor did all the work, but Daeron had been busy at whatever he was doing since dawn. Maglor dared not disturb him.

Daeron had slept badly, and barely eaten…

The sound of sniffing broke the silence, and Maglor left what he was doing and approached him. Was Daeron crying again? It had been a while since the minstrel had fallen into a melancholy state, and it always worried him. Not only Daeron was too sensitive, more than any minstrel Maglor knew, but he’d suffered horribly at the hands of slavers. 

At least the birds were not silent, though their song had turned sad. How did Daeron do it?

“Daeron…”

Daeron looked away. “I am fine.”

Maglor sat beside him. “You are crying, and your face is flushed. Are you falling down with a fever?”

Daeron wiped his tears away. “Elves don’t get fevers.”

“I know, it’s just that… What are you writing?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see?”

Daeron gave him the scroll, and rested against the tree, closing his eyes.

It was a beautiful piece of poetry, the words spoke of love and loyalty, and of the short time Men had on Arda. It was the love story between an Elf-maiden and a Man who would die before she could ever know how he felt. She was oblivious to his feelings, and it would stay like that. Men had little time, and their fire burned bright only to be snuffed out by time. The Man never spoke about his love, but she was there and sang for him when he died.

Was this about Lúthien and Beren?

He looked at Daeron, who opened his eyes.

“You still love her, after all this time.”

“That is past,” Daeron said softly. “It is merely a metaphor about time. Lúthien did not sing; her way was the dance and the joy it brought to her heart. This is not about her.”

Maglor nodded, and felt a pang of guilt in his heart. “Who will sing this for you, Daeron?”

Daeron looked at him for a long moment. “No one. I cannot fade, and I will not… I need a drink.”

“Daeron, you know…”

“I know.”

Maglor wanted to kiss him, and tell him that he loved him, but he could not. It was killing him, and it was hurting Daeron. If only he dared to say the words, and hope for the best, but he could not be so selfish. Daeron knew that Maglor loved him surely?

“There is an inn on the way to Elrond’s vale” Daeron said. “Let us go there and mingle amongst Men. Or try to.”

“You cannot hold your wine, Daeron.”

“I know.”

Maglor sighed inwardly, but he knew better than to object. Not now, not when Daeron was on the verge of falling into sadness once again.

“I have some Dorwinion wine,” he said. “I was saving for a celebration.”

Daeron smiled though fresh tears. “We live forever, whether we want it or not. Let us celebrate life.”


End file.
